


walk walk fashion baby

by spellingbee



Series: destruction [2]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Nonbinary Show Pony, Other, POV Third Person Limited, Podfic Welcome, mind-reading, post-story pre-epilogue, the fab 4 are all walking fashion disasters and we love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 01:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingbee/pseuds/spellingbee
Summary: Show Pony decides to showcase their friends' unique clothing styles with a fun fashion show!





	walk walk fashion baby

**Author's Note:**

> Week 39! 
> 
> Big thank you to my zucchini ace (funkobraofficial on tumblr) and my friend pink (pinkstationhero on tumblr) for beta-reading this!! i owe you both my life.
> 
> this is an extremely silly one-shot set sometime between chapters 25 and 26 of destruction. please enjoy some show pony pov

Show Pony’s nearly finished setting up the makeshift runway when the first of their contestants makes his way into the diner. 

“Oh, Jet Star darling, _ there _ you are!” they say, standing up straight and pushing a lock of hair out of their face. “Welcome, welcome, come join us!”

“Uh,” says Jet, arching one of his gorgeous eyebrows at them. “Pony, what are you doing here?”

“Setting up for your show, of course!” They gesture to the runway they’ve hastily constructed out of some scrap wood they’d found outside, probably left over from when Ghoul and Kobra had built their little house together. 

Jet’s confusion seems to only increase, his brows knitting together as he stares at them, and Pony can’t exactly _ blame _ him for that, no. After all, it’s not as though Pony had _ informed _ any of them of the fact that they were coming over, or for what reason.

Pony rolls their eyes playfully at him, reaches over and fixes the collar of Jet’s hideous shirt. “Where are the others?” they ask. “I’ll tell you about it all at once.”

Jet turns to look behind him. “Oh, they’re coming in--they’re unloadin’ the car. I just came in to get a bucket, but, uh, got kinda distracted.” He gives Pony a big grin, and they swear their heart skips a beat.

“Well,” they say, clearing their throat, “that’s perfect, then. Let me help you with that.”

Jet doesn’t protest, just leads them over to where they keep their buckets and other such items, hands one to them, then takes them back outside. It’s cooler out now than it had been when they’d arrived a few hours ago, and Party’s Trans Am sits parked out front, with all four doors and the trunk wide open. 

The car’s looking a lot more banged up than when Party’d first gotten their hands on it a few years ago, but that’s to be expected considering how much they’ve put it through, especially those few months ago when BL/ind had been a much bigger threat than it currently is. The car’s gotten a new paint job recently too, Pony notices; some new colors and designs decorate it, and Pony’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to the red pill symbol belonging to Party, painted right next to the blue star that Jet’s taken up as his own symbol.

Pony doesn’t have much time to ponder that before Party’s grabbing their attention. “Pony!” they say, arms full of boxes. “What’re _ you _ doin’ here?” They sound pleasantly surprised, Pony thinks, so they beam at them and set about helping Jet fill the buckets with the loose vegetables in the back seat.

“I’ll tell you when you’ve got all your goods packed away,” they say. 

“Pony!” says the Girl, from somewhere behind them. “Haven’t seen ya in _ two weeks!” _

Pony straightens up, clutching a bucket of greens to their chest and turning to see her standing with her hands on her hips, her eyebrows knitted together in an expression she’d picked up from Jet, her lower lip stuck out in a defiant pout.

They laugh, reaching out to ruffle her curly hair. “I know, I know,” they say. “I’m sorry, darling, I’d’ve come sooner if I coulda!”

She keeps her stern gaze on them a moment longer, and then her expression softens and she lifts her hands to catch on their wrist. “Well, yer here now,” she says. “Guess you can make it up to me. Can I paint your nails?”

“Sure thing, sugar!” they say, smiling at her. “Oh! But I need you to help me with a special project first, m’kay?”

“What’s the project?” she asks, squinting suspiciously at them.

“Well--” Pony begins, but they’re interrupted by Kobra stepping up behind them and putting a heavy hand on their shoulder.

“Really?” he asks. “You came over here for _ this? _” He doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Pony pouts at him. “If you’re going to read my mind,” they say, “you could at _ least _ announce your support for my excellent ideas.” 

“What _ are _ your ideas, Pony?” Party asks, lugging their boxes into the diner. “Hey, Kobes, you sure you don’t want any’a this stuff at your place?”

“Nah, what’s the point? Me an’ Ghoul’re here all the time anyway,” Kobra replies, following behind them with his own armload.

_ “My idea,” _ Pony says deliberately, “is to have a fashion show today!”

Party stops in their tracks and turns to look at them. “You wanna do _ what?!” _

Well. Pony had certainly thought that Party_,_ _at least_, would like their idea! Pony pouts at them, too. “I wanna have a _fashion show,”_ they tell them. They’re going to need some convincing, apparently. “Look, you all have your own unique fashion tastes. I want to see which one of you can throw together an outfit so _incredibly you_ that it _astounds_ me! So, we’re having a fashion show.” They try to put as much authority in their tone as they can, cocking their hip and raising an eyebrow in a won’t-take-no-for-an-answer sort of way.

Party blinks at them, and then tips their head back and laughs. “Oh my god,” they say, “oh my _ god, _ Pony, a _ fashion show? _ Fuck. You _ know _ I can’t say no to somethin’ like that!”

Pony beams at them. “Of _ course _ you wouldn’t, Party darling,” they say, and throw in a wink for good measure. Party winks back, and Pony’s heart stutters again. _ Damn it. _

“I wanna be in the fashion show,” Jet says, popping up next to Pony. Pony turns their attention to him again, and he smiles at them. “I’ve never done anything like it. In the city they sometimes had shows for their latest Better Living fashion lines, but they were just parades of white fabric in boring cuts and that kinda thing. I bet a desert fashion show’s way different.”

“A desert fashion show’s whatever you want it to be,” Kobra says, nudging the diner door open with his hip and slipping inside. _ ‘It’s not a thing unless you make it a thing,’ _ he finishes, the words filling Pony’s head in a way they’re still not entirely used to.

“Well,” Jet says, “then I definitely wanna be part of it.”

“Me, too!” Party says. “Who else wants in on this?” They all carry their supplies into the diner and set them down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m game,” Kobra says, and Pony pumps their fist in the air, dancing a little on their skates in victory. They’d been confident enough that Party and Jet would agree to this game, but everyone else was pretty up in the air.

“Not me,” says the little goblin who follows Kobra around all the time. “I’m _ not _ gettin’ dressed up and dancin’ around in a suit or a skirt or whatever else ya got planned.”

Pony shrugs. They couldn’t care less whether Ghoul participates or not, so long as he doesn’t mess up their carefully thought-out plans.

“I wanna be a judge,” the Girl says, latching onto Pony’s arm. “Can I be a judge?”

Pony smiles down at her, reaches over with their free hand and ruffles her hair. “Of _ course _ you can, darling!” they say. “You can help me rip these ones to shreds, hm?”

“Hell _ yeah!” _ She pumps her fist in the air, a clear imitation of Pony’s gesture, and they laugh.

This is the best idea they’ve had in a long time, and this is going to be _ so fun! _

\-----

So maybe Pony had gone a little overboard by actually _ building _ a runway in the middle of the diner, but it isn’t like there isn’t _ room _ for it. It takes only a few minutes to finish it up--they'd probably have finished it earlier if they hadn't fallen asleep in the middle of it (damn their narcolepsy)--and it’s easy enough to set up a curtain on one end, to hide the contestants from view, and drag the tie-dyed sofa to the other end for themself and the Girl to sit on and judge the others. 

They can hear the others--all four of them, though Pony has no idea how Kobra managed to wrangle Ghoul into participating--talking and arguing on the other side of the curtain, but they turn their attention to the Girl instead.

“Have you seen the outfits they’re going to wear?” they ask her. 

She shakes her head. “I dunno what they picked,” she says, “but I can _ guess _ the kinda awful stuff they’ll be wearin’.”

They laugh. “Yeah, they each have their own, er..._ unique _ styles, don’t they?” Not that Pony really has anything _ against _ personal expression through fashion--far from it, in fact--it’s just that it’s fun to tease everyone about their awful senses of fashion. 

The Girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah,” she says, and grins. “It’s fun, though. All the colors an’ stuff. The city was so _ boring _ all the time. Everyone dressed the same. I like that everyone wears different stuff out here. Even if it _ is _ ugly.”

Pony hums in response. “I remember well the awful _ ‘fashion’ _ in the city,” they say. “And men and women had to wear clothing designed specifically for their genders. Those of us who are neither certainly embraced the wear-what-you-want attitudes out here in the desert.” They tug at their shirt then, a heavily-bedazzled crop top showing more than just a flash of their belly. 

The Girl nods. “I didn’t like wearing the clothes they gave me,” she says. “I ran away from home when they tried to take me to re-education for wearin’ my big sister’s skirt.” She rolls her eyes. “I like the clothes out here better. I like orange an’ blue ‘specially. And shorts. Shorts are comfy as shit.”

“Oh, sugar, that’s valid as hell.”

“Hey, are you guys ready?” Party calls from behind the curtain, “‘Cause we’re ready to walk-walk-fashion-baby over here.”

Pony straightens up. “Absolutely,” they say, not bothering to hide the excitement in their tone. “Girlie, honey, cue the music! Hit the lights!”

The Girl hits a button on her boombox, and a classic pre-BL/ind rock song starts playing. She picks up the remote control next to her and keys in a code; all the lights in the dining room shut off, except for the one directly over the runway.

“Fuck yeah,” Party says, and someone comes stumbling through the curtains into the light.

“Ugh,” Pony says, because it isn’t one of the scrumptious members of the gang, but is instead Kobra’s pet gremlin.

_ ‘Don’t be mean to him,’ _ Kobra thinks to them, _ ‘or I’ll steal your skates and glue the wheels in place.’ _

Pony gasps aloud. _ ‘ _ You _ wouldn’t! _’ they think back, and Kobra just sends them a feeling of smugness. Drat. Now they can’t even make fun of Ghoul.

“Woo!” the Girl cries next to them, waving her fists in the air. “Go, Ghoulie!”

Ghoul walks down the runway with his arms crossed over his chest, and stops at the end to glare at Pony. “I only did this ‘cause Kobra can be real convincin’ when he wants to be,” he says, and Pony can see a dark lipstick mark on his right cheek. _ Well. _ At least they know what color Kobra’s lipstick is.

“I can see that,” Pony says, looking Ghoul up and down. He’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing all day: a dark T-shirt, ripped jeans with holes in the knees, and old, worn-out boots, shoelaces untied. It’s _ really _ difficult to not say anything mean. “Well,” they say after a moment, “you can go back now.”

He turns on his heel and stalks back to the curtain. The Girl cheers for him all the while. At least _ someone’s _ having fun so far.

The curtain opens again a moment later, and this time it’s none other than Party Poison.

Pony and the Girl both whoop then, and Pony throws in a wolf-whistle too, because _ damn, _ they look _ amazing. _

Party sashays their way down the runway, sparkling and shining with every movement, the light overhead bouncing off the silver glitter they’ve positively _ doused _ themself with.

They come to a stop at the end of the runway and pose, jutting one hip out and placing their hand on it. Pony looks them over, feeling appropriately impressed. They’re wearing a gauzy blue shirt which doesn’t hide _ anything. _ Delicious. Below that, they’re wearing red booty shorts that fit them _ wonderfully, _ and a pair of only slightly-faded rainbow-patterned knee socks. On their feet, they wear strappy, iridescent blue sandals. 

“Gorgeous,” Pony shouts, “Absolutely _ gorgeous, _Party darling!”

Party blows a kiss to them, and it’s only then that they realize they’re wearing bright blue lipstick. And, oh _ my, _ do they make it work.

Party makes their way back down the runway, swinging their hips as they go, and Pony can now see their booty shorts read _ “Bite Me” _ on the ass. It’s a very _ Party _ look.

They disappear behind the curtain, and Pony readies themself for the next contestant. A moment passes, and then who should step out but the Kobra Kid himself.

“No!” the Girl immediately shouts. “No, nuh-uh, go _ back _ and put somethin’ less _ awful _ on!”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Kobra says, making his way down the runway, “this is the best outfit I could find to really showcase who I am.”

Pony hums appreciatively, delicately placing a hand over their mouth to stifle their laughter. Kobra’s wearing nearly his normal attire, black skinny jeans with bright red high-top sneakers, but his face is made up _ beautifully, _ with dark eyeliner and gold eyeshadow, sporting black lipstick on his bottom lip and gold on his upper. He looks quite lovely, actually--or he _ would, _ if not for the shirt Pony can only bring themself to describe as an _ abomination. _

It’s a white T-shirt, cut into a crop top, with marker doodles drawn all over it, which, in and of itself, would be fine. _ However. _ The shirt has been altered even further, with two holes cut strategically to allow the viewer access to his nipples.

One of which has been pierced with a _ safety pin. _ Good _ lord _.

“I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I _ hate _ it!” the Girl chants, and flings a discarded Power-Pup can onstage. 

“Sorry you can’t handle the real me,” Kobra says, knocking the can away from him with an admittedly well-aimed punch.

“Bra-_ vo, _ Mr. the Kobra Kid!” Pony calls, applauding. “Truly inspiring. _ Truly!” _

Kobra then turns and heads back to the curtained off area. 

“Zero points!” the Girl shouts at his back. Kobra gives her a thumbs-up without looking at her.

“Well,” Pony says, turning to the Girl again, “Kobra certainly has, perhaps, the _ most _ unique sense of style, doesn’t he?”

“He has the _ worst _ sense of style,” the Girl corrects. They look at each other for a moment, expressions stoic, and then they both burst into giggles, leaning toward each other. The worst part, Pony thinks, is that they aren’t even sure if Kobra was _ joking, _ or if he honestly enjoys wearing _ crop tops _ with _ nipple windows. _

_ ‘Oh,’ _ Kobra thinks to them, _ ‘no, this is my actual style. I’d wear this all the time if I could.’ _

“Don’t _ ever _ speak to me again, Kobra Kid!” Pony calls, and they don’t get a reply.

The curtain rustles, and Pony focuses on it again, expectation growing. Jet Star’s next! He always wears something absolutely _ horrendous _ that just somehow _ works _ on him. They’re very excited to see what ensemble he’s decided best encompasses himself as a person.

The curtains are flung away in such a perfect, fluttery manner that Pony can only guess Party’s used their telekinesis to do so, and Jet Star takes the stage.

He looks a little nervous as he approaches, but he’s smiling, and his steps are confident.

_ “God,” _ the Girl murmurs. “Think there might be such a thing as _ too much _ color, an’ I think Jet’s found it.”

Pony has to disagree, honestly. Yes, the clothes Jet’s dressed in are objectively hideous, but he _ makes it work. _ Somehow. 

He’s wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt, probably unearthed from the vintage section of Tommy Chow Mein’s shop, with gaudy orange flowers all over it. The shirt is completely unbuttoned, save the last two buttons, with a short black shirt underneath. The shirt ends a couple of inches above his navel, and has something written on it in big white letters. Pony has no idea what the word actually is, however, because the Hawaiian shirt covers most of the word, aside from the letters “A-S-S” in the center of his chest.

The hideous blue shirt is tucked into the top of his leggings--yes, he’s tucked the shirt _ into his _ ** _tights!_ ** _ \- _ -which have so many clashing patterns and designs on them that Pony can barely even classify them as _ anything _ in their mind. The leggings have sparkly pink stripes up the side of each leg. On his feet, he wears tie-dyed canvas shoes, which Pony’s pretty sure he dyed himself, at the same time he dyed the very couch they’re currently sitting on.

His gorgeous face, framed by his lovely dark curls, has been made up with dark eyeliner and bright purple eyeshadow. His lips are quirked into a little smile, his eyes twinkling in the lights.

It _ shouldn’t _ work, it _ really _ , truly _ shouldn’t, _ and yet it _ does. _

“Brilliant!” Pony cries, clapping their hands excitedly in front of them. “Why, Jet Star, darling, you look _ wonderful!” _

“Thanks,” Jet says, and now he’s beaming at them again, and, _ fuck, _ Pony really needs to get ahold of themself. 

He turns and strides back down the runway, and he disappears behind the curtains just as the final note of the song fades away.

Pony turns to the Girl. “Well,” they ask, “shall the judges deliberate, then?”

\-----

“That was fun,” Jet says as he re-enters the backstage area. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of dressing up.”

Kobra rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s smiling. “If you can call _ that _ dressing up,” he says.

Jet looks down at himself. “What?” he asks. “I’m wearing my nicest shirt!”

“Babe,” Party says, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze, “sorry, but your sense of fashion is _ cursed _ as _ hell.” _

Jet arches an eyebrow at them. “Uh,” he says, _ “I’m _ not the one wearing a see-through shirt and shorts that barely cover my ass and junk, Party.”

“No,” they agree, “but you _ are _ wearing _ super _ tight leggings and a shirt that says ‘ass’ on it.” 

“They match my aesthetic,” Jet counters, “and the shirt says _ ‘assassin.’ _ Not _ ‘ass.’” _

“I dunno,” Kobra interrupts, before they can start to _ seriously _ argue about whose style is worse, “I think you both look pretty cursed.”

Jet and Party both pointedly look at his own shirt, and Kobra doesn’t need to read minds to know what they’re thinking. He rolls his eyes again. “How am I supposed to show off my new piercing without the holes?” he asks. He points to his left nipple, very carefully not touching the safety pin piercing. “This thing hurt like a _ motherfucker. _ You think I’m gonna hide it under my _ shirt?” _

Jet and Party shoot him matching looks of disgust. That’s okay. _ Ghoul _ appreciates his piercing, at least.

He puts his arm over Ghoul’s shoulders while they wait. Kobra can never get over how nice Ghoul feels, tucked up against him like this. 

“Alright,” comes Pony’s voice from across the room, “the judges have decided the winner! All contestants, please take the stage!”

Ghoul sighs. “How do I let you talk me into this kinda thing?” he asks, and Kobra kisses the top of his head.

“Dunno,” he says, following Jet through the curtains, “but I’m glad you do.”

They all walk back out and stand at the edge of the surprisingly-sturdy runway. The Girl and Pony look them all over once more. Kobra can already hear who they’ve decided the winner is, and _ why, _ and while he’s partially surprised, he’s also _ really _ not. Still, he’s already forming a plan when Pony stands up from their place on the sofa and begins talking.

“Well!” they say, grinning and skating back and forth in front of them, “this was certainly a _ much _ more difficult decision to make than we’d thought it would be--” _ lies, _ “--but we’ve decided on the winner of our little fashion show!”

“It’s me,” Party says, leaning over to drape themself over Jet’s arm. “I’m _ clearly _ the most fashionable among us. It’s okay, Pony, you don’t have to drag it out any further. We all know who the winner is.”

_ “Actually,” _ the Girl says, stepping up next to Pony and grinning mischievously at them all, “it’s _ not _ you, Par! It’s someone else!”

_ “What?!” _ Party straightens up and folds their arms over their chest, pouting. “You _ can’t _ be serious, I _ clearly _ look the best!”

“The objective,” Pony says, clearly fighting to hide a laugh, “is _ not _ to ‘look the best.’ The goal is to dress in such a way that truly represents who you are as a person!”

“Oh,” Jet says, “so did I win?”

“Unfortunately not,” Pony says, shooting an apologetic look at Jet. “While you truly do look _ marvelous, _ you didn’t quite dress in a way that represents _ you.” _

“Then who _ won?” _ Party cries, clinging to Jet again. “Pony, don’t drag it out, just fuckin’ _ tell _ us!”

“The goal,” Pony says again, “is to dress in a way that showcases _ who you are. _ In which case, our winner is…” they pause. “Honey, a drumroll, if you please.”

The Girl leans over and begins banging out some semblance of a drumroll on the side of the runway.

“Thank you. Our winner is..._ Fun Ghoul!” _

Ghoul blinks. “I...what?” he asks, clearly confused.

“You won,” Pony says, mirth coloring their thoughts. “You’re the only one who dressed as they truly are: you, Fun Ghoul, wore nothing but trash, and you are, without a doubt, a _ trash man.” _

Kobra leans down and puts his hands on Ghoul’s torso. _ ‘Okay, Ghoul,’ _ he thinks to him, _ ‘Get ‘em.’ _ He lifts Ghoul up and tosses him at Pony.

Ghoul’s arms spread out, and he hits Pony square-on, koala-ing himself to them and sending them both sprawling across the ground.

Pony lets out a shriek, trying to fight him off, but Ghoul latches on tight and doesn’t let go.

Kobra looks away from their tussle and back to the Girl. “Whaddaya think,” he asks. “Should we do this again sometime?”

She pumps her fist in the air. “Hell _ yeah! _ Every Sunday!”

He gives her a grin.

“But you’re not allowed to wear that shirt next time.”

Kobra rescinds the grin.

**Author's Note:**

> i hate kobra kid's nipple windows so much. does show pony have crushes on both party and jet? yes. will that ever actually lead somewhere? maybe! is the girl trans? yes and she's unstoppable and legally allowed to do arson.
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave kudos or a comment. i'd love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> also come check out my tumblr, where i reblog a lot of danger days stuff and talk about stuff i'm working on: http://enby-partypoison.tumblr.com/


End file.
